


Such Unimaginable Things

by darlathecyborgpluviophile



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Closeted Characters, First Kisses, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, POV Third Person, Seemingly unrequited love, The Pocky Game, Unrequited Love, fluff with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 06:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16423904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlathecyborgpluviophile/pseuds/darlathecyborgpluviophile
Summary: Noct doesn't say that yes, he’s been extended offers for both the relatively innocent snack game and much, much more. He doesn't mention the handful of men who offered the same over the course of his time in high school, or how much it hurt to have to ignore them. And he certainly doesn't mention how often he's thought about making out with his best friend.Instead the Prince of Lucis shrugs his shoulders, and taps into King's Knight.





	Such Unimaginable Things

"You ever try the Pocky game, Noct?”

Noctis flicks his gaze from his phone to Prompto, lying on the haven stone nearby and munching his snacks.

"Oh, Astrals," Ignis mutters, and Gladio snorts.

"Yeah, because Charmless has always been into the ladies."

"Fuck off," he grumbles, gaze trained back onto his phone.

"What? Have you never even been kissed, man?" Prompto's on his stomach, kicking his feet in the air, chin in his hands and Pocky hanging out of his mouth.

Noctis shakes his head.

"Really?! Dude, I bet there were _tons_ of girls interested in you back in high school. You coulda tried it then."

Noct doesn't say that yes, he’s been extended offers for both the relatively innocent snack game and much, much more. He doesn't mention the handful of _men_ who offered the same over the course of his time in high school, or how much it hurt to have to ignore them. And he _certainly_ doesn't mention how often he's thought about making out with his best friend.

Instead the Prince of Lucis shrugs his shoulders, and taps into King's Knight.

Gladio makes a _tch_ noise, and Prompto says, "Someone's moody tonight," in a sing-song voice.

"Sore about being passed up by a certain someone, perhaps." Ignis suggests it as if he _knows,_ and considering the intimacy of their friendship, Noctis wouldn't be surprised if he did. Specs is probably just grateful he managed to keep it in his pants all these years.

"And you have?" he asks, and properly trains his frown on Prompto. The firelight flickers near him, making it almost impossible to notice the blush that spreads under his freckles. Almost.

"Ahahaha…I...didn't say that, did I?"

Exhausted, annoyed by the conversation, annoyed that Ignis _knows_ and hasn't ever tried to comfort him, pissed off about the war and the Gods and the wedding and everything about his life that he has _never_ had a choice in, Noctis locks eyes with him and snarks, "What, are you offering?"

Prompto blinks. The blush spreads, nearly up to his forehead by now, his mouth hanging open in an 'o'. Somewhere in the background, Gladio's cracking up and muttering curses. Ignis probably has his face in his hands.

Doesn't matter. The world has narrowed down to just the two of them, for the briefest of instants.

Prompto's the one to look away first, into the embers of the fire. He plays with the inside corners of the Pocky box lying on the Haven stone and bites his lip, that tell that Noct knows can either mean _'I want to say something but don't feel worthy'_ and/or _'oh gods what do I do I'm too nervous for this shit'_.

"I...seriously?" he comes out with finally, long after Gladio's shut up and Specs has taken his face out of his hands and both are watching the unfolding scene with barely-contained morbid curiosity.

And Noct-- Noct didn't even know what he expected. He goes back to his game, trying not to add anything to the already incredible levels of embarrassment this conversation has caused.

He cancels out of the main campaign, and chooses the Zell Tree from the main menu-- maybe there's some gold he's missed from neglecting it for so long, or if he's really lucky, maybe it’s borne fruit and he can get some free power ups—

"N-no, Noct, wait!"

Noctis tries his best to absorb the instinctive cringe. He slowly looks up from his phone—

Prompto's standing above him. He's blocking both the glow of the campfire and Specs and Gladio's forms across the way. His eyes are still wide, his cheeks still red enough that his freckles are more pronounced than ever, like constellations dappled across his face. Noctis is pretty sure there's a creation myth or a fairy tale like that—something about the Astrals giving all the light in the cosmos human form.

In his right hand he's clutching the little plastic pouch the Pocky comes in.

Noct looks from him, to the pouch, to him again, and back and forth what must be at least three times too many.

"So…you…wanna give it a shot?" he fumbles out.

Prompto doesn't give words-- just a nod, a fraction of the confirmation Noctis thinks he might actually be feeling right now.

They both have to be at relatively the same height for this. Prompto initially fidgets so much it looks like he’s considering sitting on the rock beneath them, but Noct knows exactly how bad that would fuck up his knee so he cuts the difference and rises to meet him.

The Pocky Prompto bought up at the Coernix Station is strawberry flavored. It's kind of fitting for him, in some weird way. Noct himself is partial to the chocolate variety—not that he’s really into complaining about any aspect of the present situation.

The little pink stick is extracted from the pouch, and Noct can tell that Prompto’s trembling. He can only hope that his trademark anxiety won’t turn this into a bad experience for either of them.

Prompto pinches it in the middle, and sticks the non-frosted end between his lips. His eyes are squeezed shut, his face growing brighter and brighter by the second. He shifts his weight from heel to toe, but other than that stays remarkably still.

He waits.

Noctis feels like he can’t breathe, being this close to something he’s wanted for years but he knows, he _knows_ he isn’t allowed to have. Hell, none of this even means anything. This is just a dumb game they’ve seen floating around social media for years. Prompto’s only in this for the kiss—he’s probably going to imagine it’s Cindy on the other end, if they even get that far.

He leans in.

One bite. Just the tip.

Two bites. Strawberry frosting coats his tongue.

Three bites. Their noses are touching, holy shit, Prompto hasn’t backed down yet, he hasn’t pulled away in embarrassment, holy _shit_ —

Four bites, though that last one can’t even really be described as such; Noctis makes the move to take another bite of the Pocky and whoops, he’s got Prompto’s bottom lip instead.

And by the grace of every single Astral in the heavens, his best friend _still_ hasn’t pulled away.

Noctis readjusts—makes another bite-like movement, taking those lips again, and Prompto actually presses into it. His lips are all chapped due to the fact that he drinks more soda than water out here, and when Noctis reaches up to cup his jaw Prompto’s skin isn’t as silky as he’s always dreamt, instead peppered with freckles and acne scars. But by the Gods, it’s perfection. A little slice of peace, all to himself, in the middle of a war-torn land.

He doesn’t want this moment to end and yet, he _has_ to be the first one to break it off. _To save face_ , says the little voice in the back of his head, the one that’s always been far too good at being royalty.

After he pulls back, Prompto blinks his eyes open the way he does when he wakes up in the mornings—languid and slow, this time like he’s coming back from the most pleasant of dreams.

And then he _immediately_ buries his face in his hands.

“O. M. G. Okay. Okay, I’m gonna need a sec, shit—“

Gladio’s totally lost it again, slapping his knees and rocking in his camp chair. Specs sets a hand on his shoulder to steady him—he’s smiling just the faintest bit, in that way that means he’s trying to hide his amusement behind maturity, and refuses to meet the eyes of either of them. Prompto’s still half-hunched over, covering his face and speed walking to his camp chair, while Noct—

Noct stands shell-shocked by the campfire, with the taste of waxy strawberry still on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> (title from Florence + The Machine's "Sky Full of Song"-- _oh the heart it hides/such unimaginable things_ )
> 
> this incredibly self-indulgent and unbeta'd fic is brought to you by:
> 
> -the fact that I have not one but TWO dumb fucking crushes right now  
> -my constant neurotic playing of this game and headcanons about Noct being forced into the closet cause blah blah chosen king  
> [-this mbmbam bit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZmtH3wDxf0&t=2s)
> 
> rest assured this is the start of many other breathless and awkward and secret and lovely kisses as these two dumbasses actually start to figure things out (god I love them so much)
> 
> twitter: @darlathecyborg


End file.
